


oh, what a tangled web we weave

by Purrgatorio (Nekositting)



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Anti-Soulmate Kinktober 2020, Dark, Dark Tony Stark, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Mind Control, POV Third Person Limited, Rape/Non-con Elements, SIM! Tony Stark - Freeform, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Superior Iron Man Vol 1. (2015)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:08:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27063904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekositting/pseuds/Purrgatorio
Summary: “I wouldn’t worry so much about whatIwill do,” Tony purred, his hand falling to his lap to adjust the hard ridge of his cock in his slacks.He was close enough that he could capture each twitch, each spasm of Steve’s muscles. He was working his jaw so hard it was a wonder in itself that Steve hadn’t dislocated it trying to form a response.“I’d be more concerned about whatyouare going to do.”
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 7
Kudos: 79
Collections: Anti Soulmate Kinktober 2020





	oh, what a tangled web we weave

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt: Mind Control**
> 
> My contribution to the anti-soulmates kinktober this year <3
> 
> Please heed the tags. Mr. Stark is not a very nice boy. You'll see :)
> 
> Thank you, Luna, for betaing!

Control was a funny thing.

People spent decades of their meaningless lives chasing after power and glory for just a taste, hungry mouths salivating at the mere idea of holding another’s fate in their hands, at taking their own futures in their own grip.

Tony understood power, understood glory, but control? That was something that had always existed just beyond his grasp, beyond every fucking pathetic attempt he had made to squeeze that fleeting bird between his fingers until he crushed it in his palm. He craved it too, wanted it more than all the money and fame he’d gotten through his sweat and backbreaking labor. 

But who wouldn’t? Tony might have been a genius, a far superior being when compared to all the imperfect peons aiming for actualization, but he was still no god. Not yet at least, but that was going to change. Very soon, in fact. 

But back to the point. 

Yes, Tony hadn’t shed that bit of human consciousness locked somewhere in the back of his mind. Whether that was the screams of that prisoner he’d locked in his basement, or some vestige of his former self, he didn’t know.

Oh well.

It didn’t matter who or what it was. All that did was the fact that there was something there, something that still wanted, still dreamt of all these what ifs and what could be’s; pretending that there was such a thing as limits, as boundaries that Tony could not reach. It grated him. 

His former self had been pathetic, but he wasn’t that person anymore. 

No, he was something better. Superior. 

Tony could achieve anything, could have anything and everything that he wanted, including—

“Tony.”

Steve Rogers was waiting for him in the living room, decked out in his most dashing and tightest uniform. Never mind that it was red, white, and blue; Steve somehow made it work. 

The fabric hugged Steve’s legs in a way that emphasized their strength, the sloping arches of his hard thighs and toned ankles.

God, and his _ass_ , that always—

“You need to stop.”

Tony blinked, trying not to frown at being drawn away from that far more pleasant thought.

A shame, really. 

“Stop what Steve? Having a good time?” Tony knew exactly what Steve was about, of course. It was no coincidence that Steve was bursting into his home, in the middle of the night, after all of Tony’s guests had all left. This meeting was preordained. Planned, so to speak. Commit a felony or twenty, and it was just the lure one needed to attract the one and only Captain America. 

It was so laughably easy.

“No, Cap, I don’t think I will. In fact, I think I’m going to just keep at it and see just how all of this will play out.”

Tony didn’t bother hiding his grin when Steve sauntered closer, shoulders tense and brows twisted into the deepest look of concern Tony had ever seen. It was adorable. Surely, Steve couldn’t possibly be that worried?

The closer Steve got, the more obvious the concern became. A thrill crawled up Tony’s spine at that, like a million tiny sparks of lightning were coalescing just beneath the skin. It was heady, addicting. To be the cause, the source of so much concern, was beyond flattering. The urge to rush his plans, to skip right past all the pointless questions Steve was about to ask, bubbled beneath his skin, but Tony buried them deep. 

It wouldn’t do to skip all the foreplay just because he got a little overeager. 

“Please, Tony, don’t make me do this.”

Tony burst into laughter, hand coming up in a stop motion not because he didn’t want Steve to come closer—oh, he most certainly did—but because he didn’t think his sides could handle another word out of Steve’s mouth. 

Please don’t make him _do_ this? Oh, that was just precious. Steve was already begging, and Tony hadn’t started, hadn’t even lifted a finger.

Tony laughed harder than before, sides beginning to ache, when Steve’s jaw tensed. Don’t let it be said that Steve Rogers _wasn’t_ funny or was lacking in the humor department. He had his moments, not often, but he certainly had them. 

Steve stopped a short distance away, a mixture of abject confusion and apprehension on his face. Tony forced himself to stop laughing, if only just to make a conversation somewhat possible. As much as he loved laughing at Steve, now wasn’t the time.

There was a purpose to all this.

The show _must_ go on.

“Okay, Steve. I’ll bite. What is it that you plan to do? Fight me? Because you and I both know just how that’s going to end.”

A shadow passed over Steve’s expression, making that stubborn set to his jaw all the more chiseled, his eyes all the more torn. Tony relished in the sight, toes curling inside of his dress shoes. 

“In fact, I’ll even do you the favor of describing precisely just how this will all go.” 

Steve made to speak, but Tony was lifting a finger before the words came. Tony shook his head, making sure to give Steve the most condescending smile that he could muster. Which, considering who he was, was a lot.

“Ah ah ah,” Tony said with a grin, all teeth. It felt marvelous, somehow. To see Steve hesitate, comply even if it was purely from shock and less from obedience, was delightful in its own way. “Don’t interrupt. This is something you are _going_ to want to hear, trust me.”

When Steve didn’t interrupt, motioning with his hand for Tony to continue, Tony went ahead. It was as good a response as he was going to get.

“You are going to try to beg, might even get on your knees if you think it will work. You’ll say ‘please Tony’ or maybe something along the lines of ‘this isn’t who you are, what you are’.”

Tony began to creep closer, relishing in the growing stiffness to Steve’s shoulders, in the tight lines of grief and anger on his face. It was fun to toy with him like this. Captain America, the _hero_ that couldn’t be beat, was still so human, so _flawed_. 

Tony’s stomach swam with butterflies.

“Then, I’m going to laugh at you. I might even humiliate you further by asking you to do something for me that might make me change my mind, make me _reconsider._ ” 

His eyes were glittering beneath the fluorescent lights, and Tony admired every flicker, drank in the precise moment something like pain passed through his eyes. 

Tony stopped inches in front of him, anticipation swimming in his veins when he finally placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. Steve’s muscles bunched beneath his grip, the temptation to explore more was like a whisper in the back of Tony’s brain.

_Touch him._

Tony’s fingertips traced paths that Tony had long imagined following across Steve’s skin. He caressed along Steve’s arm, his neck, and his chest. There wasn’t a part of Steve that Tony didn’t want to touch, to carve his fingertips into his flesh. 

“You’ll be defiant, at first. You always are.”

Now, more than ever, he wanted to sink his hands in and show them all just who was in control. And it certainly wasn’t Steve. The fact Steve was letting him touch him now, grope and ply at him like meat said as much. It confirmed what he’d always known, but had been too weak to seize on.

Steve would do anything if it meant saving him.

“But you’ll give in, in the end.” 

Steve wasn’t going to stop him, wasn’t going to lift a finger to swat his hands away because it was _Tony_ , and above all, because he wanted to listen to what Tony had to say. He was hanging on Tony’s every word even if he tried not to make it obvious, and wasn’t that a fun little fact? To know Tony had more power than anyone ever could, ever did, over Steve?

It was a heady feeling. 

“You’ll do as I say,” Tony whispered before leaning in to graze his lips along the flesh of Steve’s ear, threading his hands hard enough into Steve’s arm that it could bruise the common man. But Tony didn’t have to worry about that. Steve was more than just common. He was better.

Not better than Tony, of course. He doubted anyone could be, but Steve wasn’t half-bad. 

“You’ll do _exactly_ what I want.”

Tony had never been this hard in his life, and that was saying something. He’d had orgies, threesomes, and too many flings to count. Nothing was a surprise. He did what he wanted, took what he wanted. It was all a blur of hedonism, cheap thrills, and drugs since he’d woken up, carved away that piece of himself that was holding him back.

But the rush of blood pooling in the pit of his stomach, in the hard swell of his cock, was something unlike anything he’d ever experienced. It wasn’t a blur, a short burst of dopamine, adrenaline, or serotonin in his brain. No, it was something better. This was a high that none of the drugs, the men and women he’d rolled with in his bed, could provide.

It was _power._

Control.

“And not because it will make any difference, you and I both know that it won’t, but—“ Tony caught the lobe of Steve’s ear between his teeth, and the shudder that rippled through Steve’s body made that zing of ecstasy pulse deeper beneath his skin. “—you’ll still hope that it might.”

A shame that Tony wasn’t going to follow that path, though. As much as he would have loved to bring Captain America to his knees of his own volition, he was still someone that Tony could not underestimate. 

Steve wouldn’t kill him per se, but his fists still hurt like a _bitch_.

He would know. 

“As for me? Well, I’ll take what I can get.” Tony laughed, allowing the End-Sym Armor lying dormant beneath his skin to creep through, filter in until it was twitching and writhing beneath his clothes, over his pores, pouring out from the crevices beneath his fingernails. 

It wasn’t anything suspicious at first glance, but that was the point.

“Now, why don’t we go upstairs and chat? As much as I would love to speak platitudes with you in the middle of the living room, I _do_ have a comfortable couch that we can both sit on by the bar. What do you say?”

Tony could picture the wheels in Steve’s head turning, the millions of thoughts and doubts dancing behind the hardened shell of his face. Steve’s expression twisted into something torn, uncertain, as if he was tempted by Tony’s offer.

“If it helps, I’ve re-stocked on your favorite beer.”

It didn’t matter which choice Steve made, in the end, but watching him struggle was making his slacks uncomfortably tight. Did Steve love him more than he cared about justice? Did Steve want to _save_ him more than he wanted to save the world? Steve would walk over an open flame for him, but how far would Steve go?

How far would Tony have to push to find out?

“No,” Steve said, words wheezing out of him like Tony had punched him in the gut. Tony was certain that it might have felt that way, all things considered. It wasn’t wrong to assume. A rock, a hard place. A madman you loved, some innocents that didn’t deserve it. A tough call for someone that cared about the little people.

“Your loss. It’s certainly no skin off my nose where we do this,” Tony said with a shrug, taking one more moment to admire the slope of Steve’s lips, the hard set of that jaw, and the sharp glint of indecision in his eyes, before he grinned. “Don’t say I didn’t at least _try_ to make things more comfortable for you.”

It was all the warning Tony allowed himself to give before he squeezed Steve’s neck and the coil of his End-Sym Armor stabbed into Steve’s neck, burying deep before Steve could react, a look of shock and something like betrayal twisting over his features. 

Tony let in a sharp breath, entranced. He wanted to bottle that look up, drag those expressions beneath a microscope and study them until they were seared into his brain. 

_Beautiful_.

“What did you _do?_ ” Steve snarled the words out, and Tony’s skin went warm. Steve’s eyes were a maelstrom, his mouth twisting into a vicious grimace. He was breathing too fast, his cheeks flushing deep red with rage and—

The fist that came his way was expected, as was the kick. Too bad for Steve that Tony had counted on that, that Steve fell on the same patterns and was so lovingly _predictable_. 

A punch. A kick. Shield.

Tony leapt back, laughing despite himself when Steve’s knuckles grazed his chin. His landing was smooth, close enough to observe but far enough to remain out of Steve’s reach.

“ _Moi?_ ” Tony pressed a hand to his heart, like Steve had just wounded him. “Tis’ but a scratch. A little prick. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about.” 

Steve rushed toward him, arms raised and eyes wild. Tony didn’t move. He didn’t need to.

Just a couple more seconds and—

Steve halted in his tracks, his arms falling slack to his sides. The wild look in Steve’s face morphed, a spark of something like _terror_ now flashing in those blue depths. Tony’s insides curled, his mouth beginning to water. 

“What? I-I can’t move.” Steve’s voice had never sounded so small, so powerless.

Tony couldn’t look away, and had to stifle the low moan that wanted to rumble out of his chest as he stepped closer for a better look. He didn’t want to miss a thing; not the look of horrified realization that overshadowed Steve’s face when he realized he couldn’t move; nor the glimmer of dread that flickered in short bursts when he tried to reach for the comfort of his strength, but couldn’t.

Tony had always imagined control would taste sweet on his palette, like a fruit tart. Steve’s fear, though, now that was something else. It’s richness consumed him. It was like 6 pomegranate seeds on his tongue. A slow descent into hell.

“I wouldn’t worry so much about what _I_ will do,” Tony purred, his hand falling to his lap to adjust the hard ridge of his cock in his slacks. 

He was close enough that he could capture each twitch, each spasm of Steve’s muscles. He was working his jaw so hard it was a wonder in itself that Steve hadn’t dislocated it trying to form a response.

“I’d be more concerned about what _you_ are going to do.”

“Don’t—“ Steve started to say, but stopped when Tony began to creep closer, bridging what little gap remained between the two of them, to stare into Steve’s eyes. Steve’s heat was searing. The hard lines of his chest, of his abdomen, his hips: there was no place Tony didn’t press against, didn’t imagine sliding against his bare skin.

He pressed his cock against Steve’s hips, and Tony couldn’t help his grin at Steve’s sharp inhale.

“Begging already? You’ve always been such a flirt, Captain.” 

Steve’s eyes narrowed, the fear in their depths melting into one of bitterness, of betrayal. His lips pursed, settling into a firm line— 

“No.” 

Steve’s tone was lethal.

Tony couldn’t help himself. He rutted against Steve’s hips, jerked and pushed against him like a high school teen rubbing it out for the very first time. 

“Oh, _Steve_ ,” Tony punctuated the words with a low moan in his throat as sparks of heat and arousal pooled down his navel. 

That _look_ —

Tony’s hands slid over Steve’s hips, his chest, his neck, and his dick. It wasn’t hard, wouldn’t be considering what Tony intended, but he touched it all the same.

“A man after my own heart.”

From Steve’s expression alone, Tony understood what game Steve was playing. It didn’t take a genius—and he mostly definitely was—to know that Steve was going to hold back as much as he could just so he wouldn’t give Tony the satisfaction of hearing him beg. Tony would have laughed if not for the thrill that shot up his spine when his cock grazed against Steve’s stomach. 

Steve was incredible _._ Even with his power stripped away, he still fought tooth and nail to stay in control. Tony reached up to cup Steve’s cheek, fingertips following the hollow plane of his cheeks down to the swell of his lips in reverence.

Bringing him to his knees was going to be _fun._

“Unzip my pants,” Tony said, and Steve’s expression splintered. His face had become a battlefield, two twin desires tugging at Steve’s senses. Tony swallowed it all up like fine wine, palm smoothing over his fluttering eyelids and twitching mouth to experience the fight in some way. 

Steve didn’t have a chance.

Tony had seen to that. Steve could hold his head high as much as he liked, could snarl and bite as much as he wanted, but Tony was going to win. There was no fighting a parasite, a foreign body hijacking your senses. If Tony asked him to strangle himself, he would, even if it killed him.

It wouldn’t last long. A minute at most.

One minute, and Steve’s hands were hanging at his sides, and his hands l moving toward Tony’s fly. Steve had lost.

No matter how furious he looked or sounded as he hissed a frustrated breath, there was no changing this fact.

“You’re making a mistake.”

Quite the opposite, actually. This was the opposite of a mistake. In fact, he might even call this a win, but Tony wasn’t about to voice his disagreement. There were more important things to attend to.

The sound of a zipper coming undone echoed in the room, and Tony slid his hand away from Steve’s cheek to palm his dick through his pants. He was wet, oozing through his underwear like nectar through a sieve. 

Tony could come like this. Just from having Steve captive in his own body, from the knowledge that Steve would do anything he said while his eyes shouted curses, he could spill all over Steve’s suit, drench him in his essence and walk away. 

He wouldn’t though.

He had a much better place in mind for that.

“On your knees.”

Tony stepped back, and it was as if time had slowed down to a crawl. His skin was itching with anticipation, with hunger. 

Steve’s eyes went vibrant with activity, flickered like a dying light in a dark room. Anguish, pain, anger, betrayal, betrayal, _betrayal_ : his eyes were a kaleidoscope of different emotions, different thoughts. It was impossible to discern them all, but Tony didn’t need to. Steve’s descent into hell was a slow burn. He didn’t drop like a pitiful servant, groveling for a scrap. He didn’t lay down in worship, like a priest begging God for forgiveness.

No.

Steve was elegant, proud, even as he slid to his knees in front of him. Steve’s eyes never moved away from his as he did.

Tony’s stomach heaved, heart swelling in his chest. He was going to explode, to come undone. How embarrassing would that be? If he came before Steve even took him in his mouth?

“It’s not too late, Tony. You can stop, you can—“ 

“Pull aside my underwear and touch me. Oh, and be sure to touch me exactly how you’ve always wanted to. Don’t hold back on my account.”

The anguish was dripping down Steve’s eyes like tears, and Tony swallowed them all down like they were his last drink, his last taste of water before an eternal draught. His expressions, his thoughts, his body, his mind, his soul: they were Tony’s now. 

All of Steve was.

He was in control. 

Steve’s hands curled over the waistband of his boxer-brief before yanking them down with more force than necessary and exposing him to the chill of his living room. 

Tony let out a shaky breath. 

Well _that_ was unexpected. 

Just what kind of fantasies did Steve have? Maybe he was a sadist in the making? More kinky than his old-fashioned ways made it look? That’s a—

Goosebumps exploded over Tony’s arms when Steve’s hand took hold of his cock not a second after, obliterating all thoughts of kink and exploring the depth of Steve’s fantasies from Tony’s head. Steve’s thumb pushed into his slit as he began to pull and tug with a desperation that didn’t reflect the wet gleam in Steve’s eyes.

He was crying.

Steve’s cheeks were flushed, mouth parting as he tried to breathe through the snot that was starting to clog his sinuses. Tony’s fingers curled over Steve’s blond hair, carding through the gelled strands until they were soft and pliable in his grip. 

“That feels _so_ good.”

Tony did not hold back, gyrating against the grip pulling back at his skin, teasing his balls, and pressing against the sensitive crown of his dick. Steve’s pace was hard and fast, desperate and measured, in spite of the crying. Tony’s eyes rolled to the back of his head when Steve squeezed him hard enough to hurt, hard enough for white to flash in the back of his eyelids.

“Oh _god_ , Steve,” Tony moaned, maneuvering Steve’s head so that he was eye-to-eye with his hand and Tony’s drenched cock. “You’re so good, Steve. So, _good._ ”

The heat, the wet slaps of Steve’s hand on his cock, the sheen of tears in Steve’s eyes: it was too much. He was going to come. His toes were curled too tight in his shoes, his grip on Steve’s enough to tear some of the strands out.

Tony had to make a move, or he would lose his opportunity. 

“Blow me, Steve. _Fuck_ —” Tony cursed and wrenched Steve’s head to his cock before Steve’s body even thought to move. The heat that followed was overwhelming, devouring. Steve’s tongue was like a furnace, wet and _just_ right. Tony hardly registered when Steve splayed one hand on Tony’s hip for balance, for purchase. 

Everything was a haze.

Steve swallowed him deep into his mouth, and Tony’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he sucked him in. He yanked on Steve’s head, fucking down his throat until the world narrowed to that tight mouth engulfing him. 

_In and out._

_In and out._

Steve choked on his cock, but he didn’t dare stop. Steve couldn’t even if he’d wanted to, but still—

There was something to be said about a man that deprived himself of air for another’s pleasure. God, Steve _really_ was a man after his own heart. 

Steve hummed with a moan of his own, and it vibrated through Tony’s senses like the purr of an engine. Tony rocked into it, fell into the ecstasy of Steve’s mouth like a man starving for touch, for pleasure, for—

_More._

Tony opened his eyes, unsure of when he’d even closed them, to look at Steve’s face. Tony’s mouth parted with awe, with a moan, a cry.

It was _glorious_. 

Tears were streaking down Steve’s eyes, cheeks flushed and dripping. There was snot, pre-cum, and spittle dripping down his chin. Tony’s cock swelled, riveted by the sorrow in those depths and something else, something—

_Oh._

Tony bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from coming apart at the seams.

Steve _liked_ this, and was enjoying himself. 

The guilt was a smoking gun.

Tony’s chest swelled, something feral raking through his lungs, his stomach, his intestines, like a thorny vine. Just when he thought it couldn’t get any better, that he’d reached his peak, Steve somehow managed to outdo even himself. 

Tony’s gaze traveled lower, away from Steve’s mess of a face, and the sight of his straining length bulging in his suit was like catnip. Tony smiled, moaned and fucked himself deeper into Steve’s awaiting mouth. The graze of his teeth made him wince, but there was something to be said about pleasure, about how it melded perfectly with the sting of pain.

“Touch yourself,” said Tony, breathless and pushing into Steve’s mouth. He hadn’t meant to say that. But fuck, his plans hadn’t factored that in, hadn’t accounted for Steve enjoying this too. His insides were writhing, tight. He was bordering the edge of climax.

_Fuck._

Steve’s hand squeezed Tony’s hip to the point of pain, to the point that he knew he’d be bruised for the next few days, and then Steve’s other hand was fishing out his length from his suit and jerking himself with the same urgency, with same desperation as the mouth moaning around Tony’s cock. The pain stymied the impending orgasm, but it wouldn’t be long, wouldn’t—

_Fuck_.

The knowledge that Steve was enjoying himself, was aroused at being violated like this, it was too much. _God_ , it was so better than all of his ecstasy-ridden orgies combined. 

Between the wet slide of Steve’s tongue curling over his crown each time he pushed in, the hard pass of his teeth caressing the underside of his dick, and the vibrations of Steve’s moans each time he took Tony deep into his throat, Tony didn’t stand a chance.

Tony’s body tensed to the point of pain, a wave crashing through him like a shot of norepinephrine through his nerves. He pulled out of Steve’s wet mouth just in time to spill himself into Steve’s open mouth, half-lidded eyes, and cheeks.

Still, that wasn’t enough. 

Tony rutted his cock against Steve’s face, smearing as much of himself as he could as he rubbed himself on Steve’s face through his orgasm. The world was too loud. The rush of blood in his ears, the rapid thrum of his heart, the husky note of Steve’s own moans: Tony sank into it all. 

He didn’t know how far he sank, how deep he went. He fell, and fell, and fell until it was all silence.

Only heat and dampness.

The sudden rush of heat along his pant leg did not disrupt the sweet heat, the delicious heaviness to his limbs. 

It tasted like power.

“Wow,” Tony said after an eternity of silence, after the drag of the minutes passing were no longer infinities compacted into milliseconds. “Just _wow._ ”

Tony stepped away, a smile curling over the corner of his mouth when Steve didn’t speak, didn’t move from where he still kneeled on the floor. It was where he belonged, after all. 

“If I’d known you were this good, I’d have done this _so_ much sooner.” 

Steve’s lips twisted into a grimace, something bitter flashing in his eyes. 

“Fuck you, Tony.”

Tony shook his head, lips curling into a toothy smile that made the hard lines of Steve’s face falter. It was a flash, a hint, but it was enough for Tony to catch. 

_Fear._

Tony’s spent cock twitched at the sight. 

“Why _Steve_ , I thought you’d never ask.”


End file.
